


Give and Take

by shadeblue



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1238896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadeblue/pseuds/shadeblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows everything. Everything about him, everything about everything. Scott can see it in the way he bites his lip when they’re out together, when Scott’s eyes wander over his shoulders and his neck. In the way he touches Scott’s ear, or his knuckles, during a pack meeting with everyone around. In the way he turns his head and exposes the long, perfect line of his neck whenever he knows Scott can’t put his teeth there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give and Take

He loves the feel of Stiles’ hair. It’s longer now, gives Scott something to grip, something to run his fingers through. He liked the buzzcut, because Stiles liked the buzzcut, and because it reminded him of summers running through the woods and playing video games and drinking soda. The long hair is different. Scott knows Stiles didn’t grow it out for him, but he wonders, wonders if Stiles knew how it would make Scott want to grab it and tip his head back.

                Scott bets he did.

                Stiles knows everything. Everything about him, everything about everything. Scott can see it in the way he bites his lip when they’re out together, when Scott’s eyes wander over his shoulders and his neck. In the way he touches Scott’s ear, or his knuckles, during a pack meeting with everyone around. In the way he turns his head and exposes the long, perfect line of his neck whenever he knows Scott can’t put his teeth there.

                It’s infuriating. Which is of course part of it, for them. Stiles likes to push, and Scott likes to let him. Let him, and let him, and let him, until he can’t anymore. And when he breaks down, when he shows up in Stiles’ room at midnight with his eyes bleeding red and his skin too tight, Stiles is ready to let him. Whatever he wants, Stiles will let him.

                Stiles on his knees, where Scott can get his hands in his hair, stripping off Scott’s belt and jeans running his long fingers over Scott’s waist. Stiles knows just when to move, and just when to be still. He tears the clothes off Scott, frantic and excited, but goes still when Scott touches his neck. No one expects stillness of Stiles. They can’t see it, beneath how much he talks and the frantic movement and the sarcasm. Scott’s seen it for years, and he sees it now. Stiles goes completely still, big brown eyes catching on the moon and giving this moment to Scott. Letting him. Scott smiles gently, the red fading away to a dull burn, lets his claws drag briefly on Stiles’ soft skin. So breakable, and so strong.

                “Scott,” Stiles says into the air between them.

                “Stiles,” he says back, taking up his part of the space.

                Stiles smiles, trust in the line of his cheekbones and happiness in the set of his shoulders. He drops his head, setting his hands on the skin of Scott’s thighs. Sometimes Scott isn’t sure he’s really breathing until these moments. Their moments. The moments when Stiles puts that beautiful, snarky, well-known mouth on him and does things with his tongue that Scott doesn’t want anyone else to ever know anything of. Scott feels his knees try to give and Stiles catches him. He’s stronger now, too. They are evenly matched in all ways, perfect puzzle pieces. Scott watches Stiles’ mouth on his cock and goes hot and cold and maybe blind, all at once. Every time.

                He can never take very much on nights like this, nights where the wolf howls behind his eyes and whispers to him to _take, take, take._ Stiles can always sense it, taste it on Scott’s skin, and when Scott touches his neck again Stiles looks up and immediately strips to the waist. Scott feels the rug under his knees, the same ugly rug Stiles has had since they were eleven, covered in stains and burns and memories. Stiles is left wearing only an old pair of gym shorts, and nothing underneath. Scott chokes a little, and gives him a look that might be the beginning of an aneurysm. Stiles would be the one to give it to him, and Scott would take it. He could go like this, with Stiles spread out and warm beneath him. Scott blinks, and realizes that that is the weirdest thought he’s had in a while.

                Stiles smirks at him and removes his shirt. They fall together on the old rug, somehow graceful in a practically graceful moment. They catch each other, careful of elbows and to touch as much skin as possible. Stiles gasps, lips wet, and Scott takes them, tasting himself and the moon and Stiles, under everything. Always Stiles.

                The smirk changes, pushier now but somehow gentle. Scott reaches for him, knowing that look, and returns the gasp to find Stiles wet, open. “You—” he chokes on it. Too much, Stiles knows exactly how to give too much.

                Stiles tries to keep his smile but his mouth is falling open at the feel of Scott’s fingers, one, and then two, so easily. “I thought you’d be—coming over.” Those brown eyes glow, almost wolf-like, when Scott tries three.

                Scott can barely breathe, and he isn’t sure if it’s because of the way Stiles talks or the way his skin tastes, or some cross between the two. He knows he’s leaving bruises, can tell it by the way Stiles gives short little cut-off moans, but he can’t help it. Those bruises are a promise between them, one of many. Later Stiles will try to give them back, even though they don’t take on the outside. Scott imagines he can feel them anyway, branded beneath his skin.

                “Stiles—” he gasps. It isn’t even a word anymore, it’s the only thing he knows.

                Stiles has an answer, like he does for anything, and he wraps his legs around Scott’s waist and pulls him in. The sound he makes when Scott’s inside him is its own kind of drug, something Scott wants to be completely addicted to for the rest of his life.

                There’s nothing left between them, not even air, and Stiles takes the breath from his mouth and gives it back, gives everything back. Tonight, Scott takes it all, loses his mind in Stiles and feels his eyes burn red, gripping Stiles’ hair and getting closer, closer, closer. Stiles panting against him, tilting his head back and drawing fleeting red marks on Scott’s back.

                Scott takes what is given and puts his teeth on the line of Stile’s throat, bruising when they fall apart. Together.

                Always together.


End file.
